Eli Singleton & the Sons of Injustice
by Kenrovan
Summary: AU; OC trainer journey. When life is rough, people tend to want what others have. Eli and Mikey have a few things in common in that sense. They both knew crime - if done right - does pay. And if you want something bad enough, have the balls to take it. Tags: AU, Explicit language, Cyberpunk, OC main character, Non-explicit sexual content, explicit violence, moral ambiguity.
1. Chapter 1

**Sons of Injustice  
**

 **A/N - Story is mostly Alternate Universe, loosely inspired by the Pokémon Adventures manga (a recommended read). This will be my second attempt at a story in the Crime/Adventure genre, with a Teen/Mature rating. The first one sucked balls, and got deleted. I hope you kids enjoy this one somewhat. And that the poker bits are mostly understandable and doesn't put anyone off this story, because it's not planned to be a regular thing. Unless people ask for it obviously. Weee~ell, here we go. Hope you enjoy!**

 **Chapter 1 -**

The sharp-nosed man to his right folded his cards.

Eli looked down at his own hand to check his cards for a second time and played with his chips a little, silently wondering how much he should raise the hook-nosed man across from him and still make reasonably sure he'll call.

Seven people sitting at a blue felted poker table in a well lit room are playing the illustrious game of No Limit Hold'em Poker, a variant of poker also popularly described as the "Cadillac of Poker".

With a buy-in of 20'000 credits, capped off at 50'000, it can't be described as high stakes cash game, but it would also be incorrect to assume any simpleton with a fresh pay-check could buy his way into this game without seriously denting his financials. Not that it stopped everyone from doing so anyway.

The room they were using was in the back of a cyber café in down town Viridian, owned by a friend of the organiser, also introduced as "the Overseer" to people who the man didn't directly know. Eli thought it was a silly name and unnecessarily paranoid of the average looking bald man, eyeing him sitting at a small round table to the left of him, sipping a cappuccino as he was wont to do at every game he hosted.

Eli snapped himself into focus once more, and forced himself to remain calm as he could already feel his hart thumping a little faster in his chest at the potentially huge hand that he had a feeling this would be, seeing the way the guy across from him was eyeying his stack. He looked at his opponents bet size and quickly calculated how much he should raise. About 2.4 times more should do it, he decided. Taking five blues and a red chip from the neat stacks in front of him with one hand and depositing it on the blue felt in front of him.

The man on his left quickly threw away his cards to the dealer in an annoyed fashion as did the guy next in line. The guy with black sunglasses plastered tightly to his face and sitting on the dealer button however, took his time. Idle chatter ceased immediately once everyone noticed the hold up. Everyone knew after playing over a hundred somewhat hands with this guy, that he was an allround solid player. This most likely meant business.

With a quick ' _frap_ ' sound, Sunglasses glimpsed his face down plastic cards again, before relaxing once more and snapped his light reflecting gaze up to meet Eli's with an inscrutable expression.

Eli's hart sped up, and he looked down towards the cobalt blue felt of the high-quality play table. You couldn't see Sunglasses eyes for obvious reasons, but you could somehow still feel his eyes on you. He hoped the hood of his red pullover and the angle of the light shining down on the table obscured the man's vision of his face. These guys were like sharks, showing weakness to them was like diving into teeth-infested waters with your wrists slit open.

Sunglasses played with a stack of his black chips for an everlasting minute, before carefully shoving all his neatly stacked chips to the middle off the table. The small blind quickly folded, as did the big blind.

But then, to everyone's surprise and shock, the original raiser, Hook-nose, quickly and aggressively shoved all-in as well!

All of a sudden, Sunglasses didn't look so confidant, Eli noted.

Then Eli's turn came.

His heart sped up and the familiar adrenaline rush made his body tingle from head to toe and his mind snap into focus. "I call.", he said simply and turned his two cards face up. Pocket aces. A stunned silence followed and swiftly broken by exclamations and scoffs at his good fortune. The best hand possible in NL Poker before the five card flop.

Sunglasses had a pinched look on his face as he also revealed an ace, with a king of the same kind or suit. He was miles behind, probability-wise, in his chances of winning this hand. Only a flush could save him now, when clearly he was hoping for more cards to be able to draw beforehand. He most likely already had a feeling he would be in bad shape once Hook-nose called his all in.

Hook-nose disgustedly revealed two kings. Laughter, groans and exclamations of disbelief followed. And with reason, when you know this fun little fact: pocket kings was the second best possible starting hand of the 1326 possible combinations. Only beat by pocket aces.

Eli grinned.

The hand wasn't over yet though. An upset was still very much possible. There are rarely guarantees in poker, an this situation definitely did not ensure Eli's victory. Time for a sweat. Eli hoped his aces would hold out. It looked good though, as Sunglasses could only hope for a tie and Hook-nose was way behind.

To calm himself down some, he opted to distract himself by watching the proceedings around the table.

Sunglasses took the deck of cards in his hands and gave it to the guy on his right, a mousy looking fellow named Thomas Prack who owned a convenience store two miles from here. Eli got to know him as a regular to the Overseers games and knew him as a reserved and quiet guy at the poker table, but otherwise quite outspoken. The reason he got handed the cards was so Sunglasses could have plausible deny ability when accused of foul play, since he was in the hand.

Thomas accepted the deck and, after putting one card to the side face down, flipped over the first three cards, known as the flop even to those with a passing familiarity with the game.

Cold dread filled Eli and flushed the adrenaline from his system as a black king of spades stood out among two other blanks of different suits that excluded any possible flush. His heart gave an almost aching throb.

"Oh c'mon!" he yelled out and banged his fist on the table, as the unfairness and improbability of the situation got to him for a moment. The new overwhelming leader in the race and his friends whooped in joy and amazement at Hook-nose's good fortune.

To add salt into an open wound, the most-likely winner of the hand said heartily after a deep belly laugh "Welcome to the big boys, kid. Better luck next time!"

Ignoring the undignified fool that was trying (and succeeding) to get under his skin, he watched as Thomas revealed the fourth card. A stinking ten of diamonds. Useless to him and Sunglasses who was already out of the race. Eli spared the guy a glance as he dispassionately waited for the final river card. The man took the blow like only a veteran could, with cold acceptance and a rational mind already on the next course of action. The man waved towards the Overseer, signalling that he wanted another stack by putting up four fingers. Another 40'000 credits for Sunglasses. Eli focused on the proceedings again, annoyed it was taking so long to lay the final card on the table.

Half giving up hope and ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach, he quickly calculated what he would lose of his stack. He had more chips than Hook-nose before the beginning of the hand, so he wouldn't go bust. But he _would_ lose about three quarters of his stack to what was most definitely a bad beat. The guy came from a little more then two percent chance of winning, to an 98 percent chance, for fuck sake.

His train of thought abruptly changed with the appearance of the beautiful ace of spades, his miracle salvation.

The table erupted once more. Exclaims of comedic disbelief, wonder and the sweet look of shell-shocked dismay on the middle-aged fools face, who had just been brutally body-checked a hairsbreadth away from the finish line.

Eli smirked in victory, a savage joy filling him as he said, "Yeah, welcome to the big boys, pall", and raked the chips towards himself. Some people laughed at his mild jab. Hook-nose and his friends didn't find it so funny though, as the man's face lost expression before turning an interesting shade of puce.

Slamming his hands down violently on the felt of the table, he leaned over Eli in an intimidating fashion, his hook-nose casting an ominous 5 o'clock shadow over his face. Eli froze, his heart skipping a beat and his left hand flying under the table towards his knife as he noticed the man's other friends in the lounging chair behind him were standing up and crowding the table. "Don't you use that smart mouth with me boy,", the man forced out through his grinding teeth, "or I'll be teachin' you how to use it properly." The fuming man reached towards his poké-belt.

Thoughts racing, Eli's eyes darted towards the emergency exit where he knew his back-up was waiting if shit went down. The two of them together would likely be able to take anything this bozo and his crew could throw at them. Probably. Maybe.

Before Eli or anyone else could respond, the overseer's baritone voice rang out like a whip. "What do you think your doing, Alfonso?". It was stated in a calm fashion, but nevertheless had a frequency that subconsciously demanded it to be heard.

It made everyone quiet down instantly. The only time the overseer spoke up, was when things started to get out of hand or when he got asked something. When he spoke up, it meant you should shut up, pay attention and do whatever the fuck the man says. Or else.

"What the fuck do you mean, 'what am I doing', this little shit was laughing in my face when he took all my money and I'm supposed to take that shit? Hell no!", the man raged.

Page marking the book he had been reading and carefully laying it down on the small table next to his coffee mug with an inaudible sound, the man known as O., short for the Overseer, stood up and made eye contact with the ranting man. The unofficial authority figure continued in a cultured voice, "Laughing in your face'... you mean the rebuke he made when you commented in a quite ungentlemanly fashion as the cards suddenly turned out to be in your favour? When you clearly got it all in the middle with a worse hand?", the man paused to seemingly appreciate the souring effect his words had on his club member's already acidic mood, before continuing to pour more on, "And then I believe you made a snide reference to his comparatively young age and his supposed unsuitability to play at this level?"

Hook-nosed Alfonso was fuming, and made an attempt to answer but was interrupted before he could utter a sensible sound, as the refined verbal beat down continued.

"I don't believe his rebuke, although unprofessional and childish, should warrant such a response from an adult, Alfonso." Here Eli tried not to be offended, but wisely held his tongue either way. "You lost the game fair and square, so deal with it as you have done so in previous games. Remember, you were vouched for by a mutual friend. And I don't think he's the kind of man you want to make look bad, now is he?", the man continued in an calm and collected way.

All the wind seemed to have been blown out of the hook-nosed man's sails by listening to the Overseer's soliloquy. Giving the focus of his ire one last menacing look, he sat back down and held up five fingers towards O., a sign which did not only stated his wish to re-buy into the game, but also his acceptance of O.'s authority. His cronies quietly retreated back towards their lounging chair.

The eloquent Overseer waited until the aggressors all backed down before making eye contact with a relieved Eli and raising his eyebrows in a warning gesture. Eli took it as a 'don't pull that stupid shit again' look. Got it. He tipped an imaginary hat towards O. and focused on stacking and counting his mountain of chips. It was important to know how many chips you were playing with.

O. himself went over towards a locked metal cabinet located in a cage on the far side of the room behind his coffee table. Partially hidden from view by the oak furniture in the room, he fiddled audibly with the key lock.

Striding towards the table with two transparent plastic trays designed to hold the multicoloured game chips in an orderly and easy to carry fashion. Handing the respective trays to the two people reloading, the Overseer got asked a question that would herald the final and most anticipated phase of their evening game.

"O., the guys and me have been discussing something just now. We were planning to start betting Stacy's as an extra stake, and we were wondering if that was okay with you.", Sunglasses said, respectfully taking of his trademark glasses for a minute whilst talking. He was new to the Overseer's games.

Stacy's was slang for unregistered pokémon that were put in stasis and sealed inside a pokéball. It was first used as a way for emergency transport of highly injured pokémon. When portable healing technology that could bring back pokémon on their deathbed became commonplace, up scale pokémarts started to use it to sell pokémon in their stores as high quality goods. The stasis kept the pokémon alive and unaware for at least three years before it wore of. A trainer could buy this pokémon and have it registered to his name for legal use of a pokémon. This quickly caused a revolution on the global market, as an old and very much wanted product could be provided for in a much larger quantity, for a fraction of the original cost. Seeing as the product was pokémon, which arguably in a lot of ways the entire world thrived upon, it certainly explained the impact the new method had. This impact was not only felt on the global markets, but also on a social level.

The official name of the pokéball was the AIS-ball, as in Artificially Induced Stasis, but that didn't quite catch on with the public. And seeing that the only difference with regular pokéballs was the fact that they put the pokémon in stasis, the name Stasis-ball stuck. On the street it evolved into 'Stacy'.

"As long as you follow the usual rules and you all agree with new terms, I don't have any sort of issue with it.", O. replied succinctly before he continued in a stricter voice, "Does everyone have a Stacy at hand?"

Everyone replied in the affirmative.

Which wasn't really a surprise, Eli reckoned, when everyone knew it was half the reason the Overseer's games were so popular. He didn't give a shit what you played for, as long as you paid your dues. And he would make sure the players could do their thing in a safe and comfortable location along with it. In return, he got respect, power and a healthy side dish in the form of a fee every member had to pay, and were happy to pay even.

Playing for Stacy's had it's obvious and not so obvious risks. One of the obvious risks were faulty goods. As in dead, ill, or handicapped pokémon in stasis, which would in some of the previous cases, drastically lower the market price for the pokémon. One of the not so obvious risks was the fact that the pokémon inside the stasis-ball could in fact be a stolen or criminally wanted pokémon. Which would make it impossible, or actually really difficult to sell to future-buyers. There were thankfully many ways to check this stuff beforehand. And this was another reason the Overseer was so popular. He could eliminate a lot of the risks beforehand.

Everyone was told to follow him towards the cage in the back, where they would hand over their Stasis-ball, and wait behind the white line, which marked the threshold and were told never to cross under any circumstances under threat of being shot dead. No warnings given, as the red sign on the cage door clearly stated. A bit extreme perhaps, but in the underground scene, as small as this one seemed still, it was considered normal and necessary to ward off thieves which were so common this day and age. This club consisted of about thirty members, who were each vouched for and sent the location an hour beforehand. While most didn't have the stones necessary to rob the place, it was considered a death sentence seeing as the suspect list wouldn't be that long. And with the obvious criminal connections O. had, it would be stupid to even try. The amount of money you could potentially make didn't weigh up to the potential consequences. Every poker player worth his salt knew that.

That, and the rumours and whispers floating around about O. and his dealings with those who crossed him, might help too.

O. went on to place the seven balls in the slots on a weathered looking machine in the corner of the cage. Every time he placed a ball in the machine, a monitor flashed on showing texts and graphs and a printer activated with a ping sound.

As Eli waited for the return of his stasis-ball, he received a text on his pokégear from his best friend waiting outside.

U DOIN OK?

Eli smirked, sending back:

YEAH UP 68K. STACYS R UP NOW.

Not even 20 seconds later he got a text back:

NICE 1, WHICH 1 DID U BET?

Eli assumed he was asking about which pokémon he was going to bet. As it was he had three options: a machoke, a kadabra, or a munchlax. He had started out with buying a machoke in stasis from the big pokémart out in Celadon City for an average 9'500 credits, the rest were won in games like these. Together with his best friend M.J. Keenan, he had barely scraped enough credits together to buy it and still be able to cover the single buy-in needed to be able to sit at O.'s table when they first started out. Why not just go out and capture a rank five pokémon in the wild you say? Because nobody accepted self-caught pokémon in this game. It didn't make that much sense to Eli, but the general idea was that a Stacy had several guarantees of quality, that a self-caught pokémon didn't have.

He sent a simple and clear text back:

MUNCHLAX

Eli knew that Mikey didn't agree with him on his choice, seeing that munchlax, while being an average five ranker, could evolve into the powerhouse known as snorlax, a solid eight and bordering nine ranker. While to most it would seem stupid to choose to risk losing such a potentially powerful minion, the simple truth of the matter was that snorlaxes were too much of a hassle to support. Especially in the feeding apartment. When you knew the actual numbers of the cost like Eli did, the thought of raising a munchlax was even more of a turn off. And even though Mikey knew these numbers as well, he still thought it would be worth it. Eventually he grudgingly agreed to reserve munchlax as a definite option in the betting ring, where Eli would choose one of the three pokémon as he saw fit.

The vibrating of his gear let him know that he had a new message.

A simple 'OK' response from his best friend, sealed the deal. It seemed that after thinking it through, Mikey acknowledged that his reasoning was sound. He hoped.

A munchlax would have been a boon to their team had it arrived later than it had. As it stood, they weren't registered as trainers yet, so the costs of feeding their pokémon fell onto them in full. If they were registered trainers, they would only have had to pay fifteen percent off the total price tag. Right now, they were both on a waiting list to receive a starter pokémon. The plan was to get registered after that. Not that they really needed a starter pokémon to do so, but they both really wanted to have a charmander. And if you get registered while already having a rank four pokémon that had the potential to evolve into a rank 6 or higher, you lost the right to a starter pokémon. Their chances of capturing a charmander in the wild was too close to zero to bother risking starting their journey without one. That's why they had both waited an extra year. They were waiting on word that should be coming any day now.

"Okay people, it seems like everyone checks out. I have your property slips right here, so you can come and collect them together with your pokémon.", O. informed everyone.

Before long, everyone was back at the table, their stacks of chips untouched. Eli silently marvelled at his wall of chips and started organising them to form a layered castle while checking out the competition. It confirmed several things he had already suspected: one, he had the biggest stack by a large margin and thus the advantage, and two, the opponents had all brought a least one decent rank five Stacy. None of them were rare though. At least not anywhere near as rare as his munchlax.

He spied a few of the players eyeing his munchlax with a certain flavour of greed that could only be found at a poker table. Eli hid his smile behind his wall of chips on his right hand side while letting his other hand loosely cover his Stacy. That was exactly what he was hoping for.

 _Let them come and get it_ , Eli thought as the dealer flicked cards to every player.

* * *

Eli watched with a exhilarated but tired smile as the number that represented his total savings shot up towards the six digits on the three-by-two inch touchscreen of his pokégear. Major pay day.

The sun had long since set during their evening game, and the clouds glowed silver under the influence of the bright full moon, casting Eli's leaning frame and the pastel wall of the cyber café in it's dim light.

Sighing, Eli wished Mikey would hurry the hell up and come back from his midnight snack break a mile down the road. Once the blond bastard had heard he was cashing in soon, he had quickly taken the opportunity to give in to his sweet tooth urges. He couldn't complain much though, Eli reckoned. His best friend _had_ been patiently waiting on him all evening.

Still, he wasn't too keen on waiting here alone in the open for too long in such a isolated place at this time of night. Especially with the seedy reputation this area had.

He considered letting one of his pokémon out and stand guard, before reconsidering, thinking it would attract too much attention.

"Lovely night isn't it?", a voice rang out.

Eli almost jumped out of his skin, his head snapping in the direction the voice came from. A dark and moving silhouette stood out against the trees, the man's features inscrutable in the darkness and his footsteps were soundless in the grass behind the cyber café Eli had exited just minutes before.

"Who are you? Show yourself.", Eli said with a slight edge to his voice, hoping to hide his nervousness.

The voice gave a surprised laugh and stepped into the light provided by the moon, revealing the brown-haired mousy appearance of Thomas Prack. "Relax Eli, it's just me. Didn't you recognize my voice?", the man's deep voice reassured him.

"Oh, Thomas. Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack. What are you still doing here, any ways? Thought that guy I pissed off from before was coming to get some payback.", Eli replied after taking a forceful calming breath.

Thomas seemed to find the situation hilarious, but stopped laughing soon enough when he noticed the unamused stare Eli was giving him. "Relax man, geez. You still on edge from before huh? Not that I blame you. I'd be nervous too if I pissed a shady guy like Alfonso off. Especially if that guy knew I had a lot of cash on me and a bunch of rare and strong pokémon to boot.", Thomas grinned, most likely hoping to creep him out even more. "Good game today, by the way. As usual."

"Thanks, got lucky a few times though.", Eli replied modestly.

The man opposite of him scoffed. "You got it in with the best hand every time for the flips and dominated the table for the better half of the evening by outplaying your opponents. That's more than getting lucky, Eli. You got skills."

Now Eli was suspicious. He knew the young shopkeeper well enough to know he didn't give this much unnecessary praise without a reason. The mousy man was sneaky in his own way, buttering him up before taking a bite.

So Eli cut through the bullshit, "What do you want from me, Thomas Prack?"

The bullshitter grinned, "Hah, smart kid. All right... I need you to run something for me tonight. It's the usual, low risk high gain kind of stuff. Just how you like it."

"Last time you said that, I had two gang bangers tailing my ass and almost nailing it to the wall too. What's the catch this time? And why can't this wait 'till tomorrow?". Eli usually didn't like asking so many questions on topics of this nature. The less he knew about these kind of shady dealings the better. Ask too many questions and the people you're working for might get antsy. And that usually wasn't good for anyone's health or job security. But after last time, he supposed it would've been a lot less stressful if he had more intel. So questions had to be asked.

Thomas appeared annoyed by his questions at first, but then relented with a sigh. "It can't wait 'till tomorrow because I just got a call from a client that said he needed it now. Look, I know you're tired, but the pay is top grade and I'll even throw in a discount and a first peek at the new poké-rods shipment coming in this week."

Eli was visibly hesitating. Okay, the money and perks were good, but he couldn't take much more shit tonight. He was still on edge from before and quite frankly tired as hell. Plus, it wasn't like he needed the money that desperately right now.

Thomas quickly continued, hoping to pull his tried and tested business partner over the edge. "C'mon man. You'll be in the hay before you know it with a big fat bank account and a smile on your hustling ass for a night well spent."

Eli shifted on his feet, contemplating. Thomas observed and pulled the cat into the bag.

"Look, you know I can't tell you what's in the package, nor can I guarantee that nothing will go wrong. But this time I can tell you there are no conflicting interests between parties. Hell, the call just came in ten minutes ago. Who the hell else would know? Besides it's like twenty minutes from here with that fancy bike of yours. Tops."

Okay that last bit convinced him. Knowing he didn't need to take the train or tube to the other half of the region or across the border was a big plus. "Okay, now I'm interested. Talk specs."

Thomas grinned like a wolf. Eli didn't like that grin. "I knew I could make you see sense!", he crowed and continued in a quieter voice, "Okay, so here's the deal. The client needs the package on route two behind the mill on the playgrounds basketball court. The guy said he needed it within the hour and was willing to pay triple for the trouble. I'll cut you in for half. What do you say?"

Eli ignored the eager look on the hustlers face and instead asked a question. "How big and heavy is the package?"

In response, Thomas stepped back and pressed a button on his belt. Multiple lasers beamed out of a device on his hip and constructed a neon blue 3D-image, the surface of which suddenly bloomed in colour causing a dull brown, paper wrapped package to materialize out of thin air and was caught by Thomas before it met the ground. "This big, and it doesn't really matter how heavy it is now does it?", the young man responded patronizingly.

"...Okay, I'll do it. I'll be expecting a credit transfer within two hours though.", Eli said pointedly, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling spreading in his stomach.

Thomas grinned, "I knew I could count on you, Eli! And of course I'll wire you the money. It's the same M.O. as always. You call me when the package is delivered and give me the password that I gave our client." Shoving the package into Eli's waiting hands. It was lighter than he expected.

"Yeah, I got it, the usual.", Eli said tiredly. He wasn't really feeling up to this, but he supposed he had Mikey to help.

"Great! So... I'll be hearing from you in a bit. See you.", Thomas replied while walking backwards and away from Eli, giving of the impression of being in a hurry.

Before the mousy man disappeared from his sight, Eli voiced something that had been bugging him since the start of the whole conversation. "Hey Thomas, wait a minute." waiting until he had the man's attention, he continued "If it's so close by, why the hell don't you just do it yourself?"

Thomas grinned sheepishly and replied "Oh, same reason as always, the missus is coming home in give or take an hour.", he looked at his watch and waved, retreating for the night.

That's right. Thomas was married. For some reason the man doesn't seem to be the type and so I keep forgetting. His woman doesn't know she's married to a criminal. I'm sure she's aware of it to some degree, but the true extent of her husbands shady dealings most likely elluded her. And from how Thomas sometimes spoke of her, it was not through a lack of trying on her part. He sometimes complained he felt like he was married to a private eye. A very hot private eye.

Eli pressed the B1 button on a pad from the device hanging from his belt and in a display of neon 3D imaging, a bike materialized a foot in front of him. The _Sungrazer mark VII_ , a sleek two-wheeled electric, high grade dual purpose motorbike. He had to admit, he had mostly bought it for the bad ass design. From the aggressive zigzagging tail lights to the triangular headlight, it oozed beauty, power and intelligence. With an energy conscious motor, a very durable yet light weight frame, multiple propulsion modes, adaptable tires to optimize traction on all terrains, a built in mini-computer with touch screen and voice recognition, a digitally adaptable paint coating, and a conservative ninety miles an hour top speed, it made for a beautiful machine. The list of what this baby couldn't do was shorter than the list of what it actually could do as a vehicle. The term all-terrain didn't even do it enough justice. The sunburst motive as the standard paint job was a cherry on top, really. It was a limited edition, and so expensive he was still making down payments.

Eli smiled to himself and thought: " _Not after tonight though."_

Lazily pressing the B2 button on his MOSS-unit, aka Mobile Operating Storage System, he held the package in front of the scanner on his left wrist. The package de-materialized from top to bottom and was thus stored safely in cyber space.

Fancy and a luxury, yeah, but he'd grown accustomed to it after a year of daily use. It wasn't really a luxury he could actually afford, but he saw it as an investment for his work. Whatever the name was for the things he did. Nothing legit anyway. He didn't really feel the need to think about it. As long as he got paid and didn't have to do anything against his - admittedly questionable moral code, it was all good in his book.

As he sat himself down on the comfortable seat of his bike, he phoned up Mikey and asked where he was at.

" _Yeah, yeah, give me a minute. I'm on my way._ ", intoned the dry sounding voice of his best friend over the phone.

"Step on it, we got a gig. Delivery in T minus two hours, route 2, behind the mill on the basketball court. High priority, so I'm gonna need someone to watch my back.", Eli spoke in the no-nonsense tone he used for talking business.

Mikey responded in his carefree kind of way that was sure to annoy him. " _And that person is me, obviously._ ' _kay, I'll meet you at the ice cream parlour in sector C-3. We're splitting even, right?"_

"Che, yeah, the usual dude. Why would it suddenly change?", Eli replied a bit annoyed.

" _I dunno, just asking to make sure man."_ , he heard Mikey stifle a yawn on the other side and was reminded to how utterly drained he felt. The focus you need at the poker table sure takes a lot out of you. Especially when you're grinding up to 12 hours a day.

" _So anyway, which pokémon did you win? You told me you won two new ones, right?"_

Eli grinned and answered "Hell yeah I did, want to take a guess?", letting his friend stew for a while.

" _What do you mean take a guess, c'mon man, don't keep me in suspense_!", the teen fake whined and continued in a more even tone " _so you still have the munchlax then. Since you clearly don't want him, mind if I take him off your hands then?"_

Eli sighed. His friend was so persistent. Before, they were planning to sell the munchlax together and have that much extra coin in their pocket so they could move out of their parents houses and into their own place. Which wasn't going to happen with a freaking munchlax on their team. That thing practically never stopped eating! And when it did, it usually slept. Not an ideal characteristic to have in a minion.

But M.J. knew all this and still wanted to have it on it's team. Damn Pokémon Discovery Channel for putting this idea in his friends head. The stubborn mule just couldn't let it go! But he seemed to genuinely want this pokémon, even knowing the downsides. So it was time to compromise. "Okay Mikey, I'll let you have him on one condition."

His friend whooped in joy, and said " _Yes! You name it Eli._ "

"You let it stay in stasis for at _least_ until we both get our third badge. Once we get our third Elite Gym Badge, we'll have enough sponsorships to comfortably take care of two snorlaxes between the two of us. Deal?"

Mikey didn't seem to like those prospects, " _Oh c'mon Eli! The_ third _elite badge? That could take us months, maybe years with how tough the elite gym battles are!_ "

Eli shifted agitatedly on his bike. He was starting to get a little pissed. God knows they had had this conversation before. "Mikey, snorlaxes are hard to train and – again – _expensive_. When we get the power and the money – not to mention the backing of a sponsor, then we'll have the time! 'Cause right now, we don't. If we pour all our time and money into that munchlax, it'll be ages until we're ready to take on our first Elite Gym battle. Either that or we _and_ the munchlax will starve to death before that even happens. And what sponsor do you think would back one not to mention _two_ sixteen-year old's? 'Cause two years is how long it would take, Mikey. You can't take on a gym master in an elite battle with just a half-assed snorlax! You _know_ this!" Eli was shouting at this stage. Why couldn't his brother in all but blood get it into his thick skull? He didn't want to wait _another_ year to start their journey.

" _Ugh, I know all that Eli, and I agree with you to a certain point. But the third badge is a little harsh, man. You honestly think we won't find a sponsor by that time?"_ his friend questioned, a little depressed.

Sighing and sagging a bit, Eli was reminded how tired he was. God, when was the last time his bed at home sounded so good? "I don't know Mikey. But there are tons of ambitious trainers like us out there you know. And not that many sponsors willing to match 'em. That's why we can't afford to sit around! Training pokémon always takes time and hard work, we both know this. We should train our pokémon, do battle with them, get ten regular badges in the span of a few months so we can earn the right to challenge for at least one Elite Gym Badge before the year is over. With any luck, we'll get noticed and have a sponsor to make it all the way to the top."

Eli paused before continuing solemnly, "I get the fact that you always wanted to raise a snorlax for battle, Mikey. But the simple fact of the matter is that we can't let it put both our dreams at risk.", then he sighed, "On the other hand, we've both had to give up a lot over these past few months, years even, to reach our goals. That's why I wont ask you to give up on the munchlax. I'm simply asking you to wait until the time is right."

It was silent over the phone for a while before a response was formed. "... Yeah, I get it. You're right. Meet you in C-3?"

"Yeah, the ice cream parlour in five...see ya"

The phone clicked once, signalling the end of the electronic conversation.

Conjuring up a black and yellow bike helmet from his MOSS-unit and donning it, he wondered if he was being too bossy or controlling with Mikey. Sure, he could argue that he had definite valid points, but that didn't change the fact that he had basically ordered Mikey what he could and couldn't do.

He sighed, before firing up his bike with a satisfying hum of power from the guided electric energy core. There was nothing to it he supposed. Mikey and him were in this together, so they had to discus every choice with each other before making a decision. That was a sacrifice both of them had made in order to reach their dream all the faster.

At times like these he wondered what Jonah would say about it. That guy always has a way of seeing things clearly. He wondered how Jonah was doing on his journey as he released the clutch and kicked off, speeding away smoothly over grass and dirt before reaching the main road.

Mikey, Jonah and him have been best friends for as long as he could remember. It was hard to remember a day when he didn't see or hear from them at least once. Well, that was until Jonah moved to Jubilife City in the Sinnoh region last year because of his dad's oh-so-important-business. He couldn't even remember what kind of business he actually did. What he did remember, was the giant stick that man had up his ass. You wouldn't believe the many times Jonah couldn't come out and chill with them by the riverside just because his father told him to do chores instead. Not that Jonah always obeyed. The kid rebelled against his shitty parents just as much as we did. But there was a limit to how much you could resist your parents as a minor. So bye Jonah went. All the way to Sinnoh no less.

The road whizzed by, turning and weaving like a serpent. He entered the city limits, stopping at the first traffic lights by the intersection. He was alone, the streets were empty this time of night yet it would be stupid to just ignore the traffic lights. Especially with all the camera's and tracking systems watching your every move in the city. The benefits of living in the city, heh.

To his right he could see graffiti riddling the concrete walls and buildings, some depicting beautiful street art, the various colours and lighting effects blending into mesmerizing pieces, and others simple gang related tags or messages to the world. On the opposite end of the intersection and the road that effectively split the town in two, a more peaceful and urban picture was painted. He could see a bakery, a pawn shop and a candy shop on the corner lit up by the overhanging street lights. Where was the time they bought a shit load of candy before they used to go on adventures, camping in Viridian Forest for days on end, battling and catching wild pokémon? Life was good back then, simple even... God, I'm sounding like my old man, the useless drunk.

The light turned green and he took off again. Two blocks down the road he found Mikey waiting, leaning casually on his bike, similar to his own Sungrazer. His sun-kissed blond hair waved like a banner in the wind as his handsome face swivelled towards the new arrival.

"Hey.", he greeted his friend.

"Yo.", Mikey returned while he powered down his bike, but stayed on.

"So," Eli began as the silence between them dragged on for a while. Mikey said nothing, instead lighting up a cigarette he produced from the pocket of his brown leather biker jacket. "look Mikey, you get my point don't you? About the munchlax?".

Mikey grunted "Yeah," and shifted on his bike. "doesn't mean I like it."

Eli sighed, thinking about what to say to make his best friend feel better, before realizing there was no other way but to shift his attention to other things. So he pushed the familiar button on his MOSS-unit to withdraw the package he was meant to deliver.

"You take this, stay covered behind the fence of the basketball course. Let your pidgeotto carry it over from the west when I give the OK by text. Choose one of your other pokémon to stand guard with you. I need you to keep your eye on things while I meet with the guy. Bail me out if goes south."

Mikey looked almost bored as he nodded and took another drag. "Yeah I know, the usual." Then he threw the but away and asked "You got a bad feeling about this one?" as he accepted the brown package.

Eli looked at him sideways. "Why do you ask?"

His blond friend smirked, "You're tense, and you're doing that frown you do when your thinking about something but can't find the answer.", he stopped talking to put the package inside his jacket for easy access later. No use in wasting the battery on his MOSS-unit. "You always over think these things Eli. Let's just get this over with, get the money and hit the hay."

"Yeah, nothing we can do about it now anyway. Let's go."

* * *

The basketball court was illuminated by several street lights, and a worn looking fence towering over even the basket surrounded the field. At this time of day it it wouldn't be too unusual to see someone training on the court. Viridian _was_ home to one of the most recognized high school basketball team in Kanto, after all.

Therefore the lone basketball player shooting hoops at night, didn't look out of place. Eli noted he was tall and lanky, with a tattoo he couldn't place on the light brown skin of his exposed calf. His hoody disguised any other distinction he could have made. Something else he noted was the small hands the young man had. Very unusual, unlikely even for someone who pretended to be a practitioner of the sport, judging by the high school logo on his jersey. Filing it away, he instead focused on how good the guy was. He watched for a couple of minutes and came to one conclusion: the guy wasn't bad, but wasn't that good either. At least not to the level he expected in high school basketball. Especially a high school team as renown as the _Viridian Victreebels._

Deciding he had done enough observing the possible threat, he fixed the black trucker cap he had on and walked up to the court entrance. He made his presence known by banging the gate closed a bit harder than he had to behind him. On the other side of the court, the teenager faltered in the middle of a free throw and instead swivelled his head to look at Eli walking towards him.

Now that he was closer he could make out more of his client. Of Hispanic decent and with an almost unnoticeable accent. "Hey, are you the delivery boy?" the teen asked, a bit nervous sounding.

"Yeah," Eli said, and - deciding he wasn't going to dick around – asked simply "Password?"

"What do you mean password? The package first."

Ugh, not another one of those kind. The needlessly paranoid ones. So irritating to do business with.

"No dickwad, first the password to let me know your the client. Now tell me the fucking password before I bail.", Eli snarled. It wasn't really like that, but he felt he had to make a point.

It seemed to do the trick. "All right, all right. It's ' _shifty shiftry_ ', now wh-"

"Okey, now shut up for a sec.", Eli interrupted, irritated by this angsty noob already. He took out his gear and texted to Mikey.

GO.

"Now we wait.", Eli said simply after , confusing the nervous teen even more.

"Wait? What are y-"

Again, the teen was interrupted by a pidgeotto swooping in with a brown package clutched in its strong claws and subsequently dropped into his waiting arms before disappearing back into the darkness.

Reaching out his arms to give the package to the stunned teen, Eli said "Here you go." while at the same time calling Thomas, saying the password before hanging up after a sound of confirmation came.

Numbly looking over to the package, the teenager reached out to accept it.

Then shit went to hell.

The only warning he got was Mikey's yelling before a sound hit him that made his stomach sink like no other sound could. The sound of pigs. That's right, five-o, the po-po, the boys in blue, the mother fuckin' _police._ Blue lights burst through the canopy and into the clearing. Growlithe and machop – with the rare machoke, machamp and arcanine - burst out of their pokéballs in flashes of red, being the standard issue pokémon granted to police cadets.

Fuck. F-U-C-K. _Fuck_.

Here he was, trapped in a cage with the angsty noob that had most likely gotten him caught. He dimly realized he should run. But then he realized it was no use. The city was crawling with camera's, the only way out was trough the forests and then what? He would have to fight to get away, which would only serve to dig his hole deeper. No, trying to escape was not an option.

But what was going to happen to him now? And what happened to Mikey? What about their plans, their dreams? He had planned for a lot of these scenarios, but things could still blind side him.

Dimly, he realized he should be panicking. Whatever, it didn't matter any more. The jig was up. He felt strangely calm about the whole thing and watched the happenings around him with detachment.

To his right, the tall lanky teen was already running for the exit. "Dumb-ass", Eli muttered faintly. Or was he in on it? No he wouldn't be running otherwise. Red and blue light was already surrounding the court, with boys and girls in blue looking for the way in. Wow, bit much for a small timer like him...

Flashes of bright blue and yellow erupted to his far right, on the other side off the fence. That was probably Mikey resisting arrest, he realised with dark amusement. The guy could be such a hothead. Another flash – green this time – signified an energy attack of the grass-type persuasion. That exeggutor of his could pack a wallop in the special attack department. But it was only a matter of time before his friend an his pokémon were subdued. Probably painfully, but he'll still be in one piece. Not only was he outnumbered, he was also up against a couple of seasoned battlers, judging by the pair of trotting arcanine and jogging machamp he spotted.

The sound of the successive explosions combined with the whaling of the cop cars and bikes was deafening and highly irritating to the hearing sense. With effort, he blotted out the noise and focused. What did the cops probably know? That he was a delivery boy that was regularly running illegal and black market wares. The probability of making those charges stick all depended on what was in that brown paper bag. They could also have some assault and battery charges on him from previous gigs. That and abusing his right to command pokémon for illegal activities. In both cases, bye-bye trainer licence. Worst case scenario: they knew every illegal activity he had ever done and had bugged the angsty noob to gather evidence. But that was unlikely. Wasn't it? Ugh, he was out of his depth. It was giving him a headache just thinking about the possibilities, all of them bad. The only thing he had going for him now, was his minority.

In a daze he allowed the cop to restrain him and lead him into the back seat of a white and blue van. Minutes, maybe hours later, Mikey and the lanky teen came to join him. Mikey looked like he had taken a dive into pool of mud and the hispanic teens jersey was ripped up. Two cops came and joined them in the back, closed expression on their faces.

Feeling drained, Eli dimly thought about how screwed he was.

* * *

 **A/N: I like constructive criticism. But do be constructive. It's pointless otherwise. Thank you for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So, here's chappie two, for your reading pleasure. The story is beginning to take shape. Need a bèta to proofread. PM le me if you're interested.**

* * *

 **\- Chapter 2**

His MOSS-unit, his pokémon, all confiscated.

Not good, God damn it.

But then again, he was glad it was over. For over four hours of waiting and then being interrogated by a tough guy with a stick up his ass and with a social worker present being his only saving grace, he decided he was glad to be out of that hell hole they called a police station. His dad didn't even bother showing up... Well, whatever. He expected no less of the man nowadays.

Keeping mostly silent during the interrogation, he had listened intently to all the accusations they heaped on him to find out what exactly they knew. One thing you should know; Viridian City was Big Brother, meaning there were hidden camera's _everywhere_. Who knew. They had footage of him handing over packages on four different occasions, with one of them showing how he got into an argument with one of his customers and it eventually breaking out into a pokémon fight. Which he won, of course. The ugly fat chick – his opponent, had sent out a raticate in her anger over one of his insults and he had countered by sending out his cloyster, one of his stronger pokémon at the time.

He had hid himself behind the thick armor of his cloyster and told it to withdraw and pelt the foe with Spike Cannon. But even with his cloyster's ability Skill Link, that allowed it to double the amount and size of the spikes he ejected from his shell armor, the raticate was too fast to hit. Over long distances the accuracy of the spikes increased because of the homing element this ability allowed. But this had been a short distance battle. When he had heard the fat chick shout out 'Super Fang' from behind a dumpster to her furry rodent, he knew he had to act fast. He had quickly ordered Pearl – his nickname for his cloyster - to use 'Ice Shard', a move that would allow his pokémon's attack to hit first because of it's rapid production rate. As the raticate closed in with it's fang glowing an eerie yellow light, Pearl had opened her armor and momentarily glowed an cyan blue, forcefully expelling an icy mist that flash froze into sharp missiles. In mid leap, the raticate had stood no chance. The shards had pierced the rodent in it's side, a large spike of ice almost running it through and mortally wounding it and another gauging out a chunk of neck fur, it's low defense thus proving costly.

That's when the film had paused, the bad quality of the video showing as a thin band of discoloured pixels moved up and down the screen. They had told him that the raticate had died in the pokémon center later on. Which shouldn't have happened if she had the brains to recall her pokémon instead of carrying it all the way to the Pokémon Center, thus letting the rodent bleed out. The fat chick had pointed towards him as the culprit, stupidly giving away information about what happened and incriminating herself in the process.

Because unsupervised battling in the city proper was considered a criminal offense in Viridian. It was made so after crime rates in the city involving the use of pokémon was at an all time high and public order needed to be restored. Those who did, could expect a fine of 6'000 credits up to a towering 110'000 credits excluding possible property damages. If assault and battering or manslaughter by use of pokémon came into the picture, then jail time was a given.

The former he had been unfortunately guilty of. A couple of times actually. There had been the time with the Murkrow Gang, another time with the crazy mid-life crisis lady, and just three weeks ago a Team Rocket goon in disguise he had crossed paths with. Nothing too severe, just some broken bones, ruptured eardrums and maybe mild cases of hypothermia. Reasons enough to be nervous, right? But then again, he could claim self defense. In all off those instances he was attacked _first._ Besides, he didn't even have his cloyster anymore. Sometimes he regretted doing it, but then he rationalized that it was for the best. Shelly didn't like fighting that much, so he had traded her for a young and still untrained lapras from a Cerulean City Gym representative. The Lapras was still in stasis at the moment. So he could say it wasn't _his_ cloyster...

Like that defense would hold up. But it would do a lot to cut the losses, he thought. They couldn't confiscate a pokémon he had already traded off. One point to Eli. He wasn't sure of the score though.

Maybe they had linked him with any number of small time robberies he did with Mikey last spring. They shouldn't have, their faces were hidden and the pokémon he used wasn't registered. But still. Not too many people used a porygon-2 after all. Which was their loss. Those little buggers could just about bypass any digital security system. And his Que-ball had a knack for breaking and entering. A boon in many a heist, as I'm sure any robber would agree.

"But that couldn't be it, could it?" Eli had thought out loud.

Him and Mikey had hit specific warehouses, breeding institutions and laboratories to not only get valuable products they would use to train their pokémon or things they might need on their trip, but to get information on pokémon such as location data on rare pokémon or the newest research on a specific pokémon. The point is, the targets had to seem to have been random to any outsider; different methods of entry had been used each time, and most importantly they had made sure to leave no witnesses or traces. Some of the robberies hadn't even been noticed. They had been careful and had stashed their loot away in a camouflaged shack of an abandoned mining pit just outside of Pewter City.

Bottom line: it was unlikely they suspected Mikey and him were responsible for all those robberies. And even then, they probably didn't have enough proof to make it stick.

Before he had had time to further try and analyze his precarious position, the cop had already confronted him with his next piece of evidence. The contents of the package he had _tried_ to deliver earlier that evening, he had been told. After he had made out what was in the evidence bag, he had grimaced. Drugs. Six vials complete with syringes and alcohol pads. Illegal steroids. Considering the green luminescence of the substance, it was probably 'Hench' _._

It turned out that the lanky loser _was_ a second stringer on the high school basketball team called the _Viridian Victreebells, and_ desperately wanted to be promoted to first string. This year was his last chance of making the cut and maybe getting a scholarship. Being the angsty, _stupid_ noob that he was, he had wanted to get an edge. That's were the supercharged steroids had come in, obviously. It was sometimes used on pokémon in underground battle arena's to give them a temporary physical boost en making a quick buck. It would be a viable strategy on the short term, if not for the nasty side-effects. Those side-effects included physical addiction after the – on average – fourth use (that shit stays in the system for a _long_ time), after the physical boost of about thirty minutes depending on dosage, comes the physical crash. Which could permanently damage your pokémon's growth and overall potential. So basically, only dicks who don't give a fuck about their pokémon use it. They bet big on the hopes that they will win big, but they forget that they always lose no matter the outcome. It generally wasn't even a cost-effective way to make money. But he was getting off topic.

He'd been fuck out of luck. It was time to capitulate, as they say. Mikey and him had their contingency plans for several different situations like this one. Plans A through Z, all intended to keep their asses out of juvy or worse. And Eli had made sure they were thorough. The guidelines for this particular situation: on a delivery mission, when caught by the police red-handed, and the situation looked bad (i.e. they had solid evidence), get a deal by offering to give up their supplier in exchange for a light punishment.

So he had. So they both had. Sorry Thomas Prack, nothing personal.

After an hour of grilling him on all he knew about Thomas Prack and evidence that could put the man behind bars, such as warehouses, e-documents etc., Mikey had joined them in the room. The same story had more or less went down in the other room and now it was time to talk punishment. They had left Mikey an him alone in that room with a silent officer at the door, to probably agree on some form of punishment under the table. That's how it went in Viridian City.

When your dad was a local hero turned captain ranger, turned city representative, turned disabled drunkard at least. Or, if you were born into a well-off family like Michael James Keenan, AKA Mikey.

"What else is family good for, right?", Mikey had said sarcastically. He was right, in a way. With his family's power and connections, he didn't have to worry too much about repercussions in general. At least not in Viridian City. The family's legal advisor sure played no small part in that. Eli on the other hand had to bet on the emotional attachment and misplaced feelings of loyalty and duty the local cops had for the legendary Jack Singleton, the role model of every Viridian law enforcer newly sworn in, and coincidentally also known as his piss poor excuse of a father.

When the judges and executioners had come back in, faces grim, the dignified figure of Frank Price had followed. Being the legal adviser of the Keenan's and right-hand man of one off the three current city representatives, no-one dared question his motives for being there. Price had told Mikey to follow him, and he hadn't seen the blond since. The family lawyer had probably made a deal with the police chief. No serious repercussions for him at least, the lucky bastard. Eli thought he had to look into some legal representation of his own in the future. It was bound to be needed, knowing himself.

Then the judge on call layed out the punishment for him. He got off decently. A rather stern warning, since it was his first time to break city rules – taking his young age, confession and ignorance plea into account. That and three hundred hours of community service in Viridian City owned institutions, six days a week with a maximum of 8 hours a day, doing cleaning and hard manual labor. No pokémon handling allowed during community service hours. They would be monitoring the ones registered to him. Tough break. No time for training his team. How was he going to explain this to them?

That reminded him that one of his pokémon was still recovering in the pokémon center from a grievous injury he had gotten when he had had him battle about a dozen run of the mill geodude. With a clear type disadvantage, but a much higher level, he had thought it would turn out fine. He was wrong. In his defense, it all went very fast. The geodude didn't wait in line and attack one at a time, they had actually displayed proper strategy and team work. One geodude would use 'Defense Curl' and another would use 'Rock Throw' to pick up the curled up geodude and hurl it at his pokémon. In no time they had been surrounded. He had let his porygon-2 out and deflect any incoming projectiles away with Psychic, while he concentrated on giving orders to his nidorino. Although his poison type held out valiantly under the onslaught of geodude projectiles, he had suffered a couple of bad hits a few moments into the battle. Twelve to one hadn't seemed such good odds any more. Spike – his nidorino – didn't know any area of effect moves yet, so had trouble taking on multiple targets at once.

Still, he had ordered his pokémon to duck and dive out of the way while getting closer to the foes. A devastating double kick to the face of one of the throwing geodude had sent it rocketing out of the battle and out of commission. They repeated the same tactic thrice successfully before the group of geodude got wiser and used Rock Polish. That move flipped the tables on them. It practically doubled their speed and impact power. His poison type stood no chance to evade and got hit on the side of his noggin, knocking him out and scrambling his brain badly. They had kept hitting poor old Spike though, intending to bludgeon him to death. Luckily he had his Ducky to bail him out back then.

He'd go pick him up tomorrow.

But now, here he was, standing outside in the rain, eight o'clock in the morning, waiting on some official to bring him his gear. He was mentally drained, utterly exhausted. The adrenaline from last night's sordid affair gone. He couldn't stop thinking about the events that had transpired and who had ratted him out. If there even was someone. Eli had been careful, but he wasn't foolproof. He had perhaps counted on the fact of being a small fry too much as a protection against legal scrutiny.

An orderly approached him from his side, with a box filled with his gear and pokéballs. He strapped the various belts on, clipped the gear into place and he was good to go. Manifesting his bike, he hopped on. With screeching tires he rained splashed the pavement behind him and rocketed forward. He stopped around the corner and texted Thomas, before tearing down the streets again, zooming around morning traffic. He should know what it meant.

BURNED

* * *

At home, his father sat at the breakfast table sipping coffee and indulging in a morning sigaret.

"Up so early? Today must be a special day." Snarked Eli from the kitchen entrance.

A dark glare was his answer.

"Whatever, I'm going to bed."

"Sit down." His father ordered in a voice that belied his past in law enforcement.

"Oh-oh, I can feel a self-righteous speech coming up. Okay, I'll humor you. You've got about two minutes before I fall asleep with my eyes open, though. Or 15 seconds, but we'll see how it goes."

His father slammed his palm on the table. "Sit. Down. And. Shut. Up."

Eli obeyed silently. You had to be careful when the old man was in one of his moods. He could get hands-y. Eli spied the pocket sized liquor bottle within hand reach of his father. He had probably spiked his morning coffee with it.

 _Nothing new there._

"I got a call from Nicky Emerson at 0300 hours, saying you got arrested. How long have you been selling narcotics, Elias?"

Eli rolled his eyes. "Stop pretending you give a shit old man, it's giving me hives."

He pointed his finger at me in warning. " _Don't_ talk back to me! What is a kid like you doing, going around at night playing runner for gangsters and common criminals?! Don't you see they're just using you? How dangerous that is? Are you that stupid?"

"Guess I am. But to be fair I get paid _a lot_ for being stupid." He couldn't help but bite back sarcastically. "You already know I've been doing shit like this since I was ten. Kinda late to step in now."

His miserable old man had the gall to look angry and disappointed. "I know, that's why I'm putting my foot down now. I'm not going to fund your trainer license, Elias. You've shown everyone that you don't deserve it. I mailed Oak to forgo your reservation for that charmander. You need to get back into school."

Eli was struck speechless for a long breathless moment. Then he sighed, and slowly stood up. "… Fuck you old man." He turned to go upstairs, feeling wrung out and _done_.

"Your mother would've been disappointed in the person you've become, Elias."

Eli stiffened in the doorway. He turned mechanically and pinned his father down with a furious glare. "I could say the same, asshole! A piece of advice, when you decide to try being a parent on for size, try not to fuck up my life even more than it already is? Next time you pull shit like this, I'm going to reconsider calling social services. Let the chips fall where they may. I'm sure they would love to hear that the _legendary_ Jack Singleton is a hopeless, self-absorbed drunk and a neglectful father to his fourteen year old kid. The media will have a field day, I reckon. And instead of trying to fix _me_ , why don't you start with the dick looking back in the mirror!"

His piece said, and feeling too exhausted to feel anything but empty, he trudged upstairs to fall on his bed. He was probably asleep before he hit his mattress. Dreams of his fathers stricken face coming in and out of focus amongst other nonsensical images.

* * *

When he woke up, it was three o'clock in the afternoon. He stood up and washed his face in the adjacent bathroom. Noticing a pimple, he grabbed the RIT- Palm and shined its regenerative light on the area. Unblemished skin reflected back at him via the mirror.

As he passed his fathers room he noted that it was empty and went on his way to the kitchen, ignoring the empty whiskey bottle on the table. Going down the stairs he noticed his own smell and grimaced. A shower was in order. After breakfast. Or lunch more like. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he checked for messages. He had a missed call from Mikey and an official looking mail describing his punishment and obligations starting Monday.

 _Ugh._

As he grabbed some juice from the fridge, he auto-dialled Mikey's phone. It rung five times before he picked up.

" _Hey man, glad I could catch you."_

"Yeah, had some sleep to catch up on. I'm assuming you want to talk about yesterday?"

" _Well, yeah. What the hell happened on your end?"_

Eli finished his juice and sat himself down on the kitchen counter. "Back at the basketball court, I didn't bother fighting or running. I was already surrounded and heavily outnumbered. And I was stuck in a cage… You know, it feels like a set-up when I say it out loud like that."

" _Huh, yeah I guess it kinda does. It does seem kind of much just to catch a couple of runners. I mean, I counted at least four squad cars. At first I thought we were being robbed. So I told Eggy to blast 'em. NOT a good_ _i_ _dea in hindsight."_

He couldn't help but snicker at his best friends misfortune. "Why, what happened?"

" _Arcanine happened. Poor Eggy was weak against Fire Blast, who knew?"_

Mikey's sarcasm was one of Eli's favorite things. He laughed out loud. "Yeah shocker that. Then what happened?"

" _Then I got body checked by a 150 pound machoke, that's what happened. I still can't get the taste of dirt out of my mouth."_ Mikey ranted.

Eli laughed again. "Sucks to be you. So what was the verdict?"

Mikey turned hesitant. _"I didn't get a verdict per_ _se_ _._ _Price got the judge to agree to a fine and a promise to let my dad dole out a suitable punishment. To handle it in the family so to speak._ _Being a Keenan_ _has its perks._ _"_

Justice in Viridian City folks _._

"Lucky bastard. So you got of with a slap on the wrist, or what?"

" _Not exactly. My dad decided to punish me by not getting me my charmander and finally having an excuse to stop me from getting a trainers license. They want me to go back to school and study something respectable. Whatever that means._ " Mikey grumbled.

"You too huh." Eli grumbled back. "Fuck 'em. It's not like we need their money to get it anyway."

" _You still have the money? I thought they would've frozen your bank accounts."_ his best friend exclaimed.

"Well, they investigated but couldn't tie the cash deposits to anything illegal. And most of the obvious illegal stuff got deposited into an offshore account under a shell corporation. So we're good. The illegal stuff they did have on us, just looked like delinquency. Be thankful I'm careful like that." Boasted Eli.

Mikey snickered. " _You're the man, alright. But damn, what are we going to do now?"_

"Well, _I_ still got six weeks of community service to get through." Eli griped. He stood up and searched for some snacks.

Mikey's response was comforting in its commiseration. " _So you'_ _re_ _out for at least a month and a half."_ he acknowledged. _"What about after, since we can obviously kiss that charmander goodbye. I know we can still get our license in another city._ _We can't get it here, because our parents would block it. We can forge their signature if we have to._ _"_

"Yeah we'll do it that way. I'm through living with my dad. I say we bail to Pewter City, get registered as trainers and get this show on the road. After last night there is nothing stopping us anymore."

When a trainer gets his license he is granted a special status. Not quite an adult, but still independent. That meant that he would be held more accountable for his actions, but he would have more freedom as well. The most important freedom would be his involvement with his dad. After a trainer has earned an Elite Gymbadge, those perks and costs increased even more. In essence you wouldn't have the protection you enjoyed as a minor, but you couldn't be tried as an adult either. There was even a special branch of government dedicated to this. You had to grow up fast as a trainer. Bills to pay, mouths to feed. Nothing was free anymore. Except maybe the services rendered by the Pokémon Center. That was a rare exception though.

" _Yes! Agreed. And hey, we can still meet up_ _Sundays_ _to go to the Battlegrounds. You'_ _re_ _probably going to be stuck for the rest of the week though."_

"Ugh, don't remind me. By the way I'm going to the Pokémon Center today to pick up Spike and find someone to trade the five Stacy's with. So you get to pick two. I know you want the munchlax, so pick an extra."

Eli smiled hearing his best friend laugh in delight.

" _Wait, you still haven't told me which ones you got from the game!"_

He feigned surprise. "Really? I didn't tell you? It must've slipped my mind. Understandable in all the chaos."

" _Don't play coy with me, tell me! And which ones did you want, anyway? Since I got to pick munchlax you get to pick next."_

"Alright I guess I'll tell you. Excluding munchlax, we got a machoke, a kadabra, a mr mime and a poliwhirl. I've kind of been eying that mr mime. It would diversify my team a lot, with its double typing."

" _If you want a psychic type, why not go for the kadabra? Alakazam are wicked strong and top tier..."_

Eli smiled. "Yeah, they peak strongly but their growth rate is sub-par to say the least and that's not what I'm looking for. And mr mime are super rare in the battle circuit, so not many people will know any counter-strategy's of the top of their heads. Besides I don't know any high ranking trainers that use him. It could be a pretty sweet calling card. People don't really remember you when you're the seventeenth ranker with an alakazam, even if you do flatten your opponent. People _expect_ you to win. You'd definitely remember a trainer with a badass mr mime, though." He reasoned.

Mikey chuckled. " _Yeah~, but are you sure they have the potential to compete? Because maybe there is a reason mr mime aren't used for battling."_

"Oh don't worry, I know my shit." Eli assured him. "What's your pick then?"

There was a pause as Mikey seemed to mull it over. " _Well, I don't need a psychic type since I've got Eggy. Machoke are kind of bland and thick-headed. So, I guess I'll take the poliwhirl. Poliwrath have a duel typing that I could use to diversify, as you said."_

"Yeah I would've suggested that one to you as well. Especially since it would suit your head-on battle style." Eli agreed. "Okay, so that's over with. I'll let you know which one I got in return for kadabra and machoke."

" _Sure._ _I'll come pick up the poliwhirl tomorrow afternoon._ _Hey_ _that reminds me,_ _you want to head over to_ _the Battle Arena this Saturday?_ _There are a couple of ranked battles scheduled. So the place is going to be packed with amateur trainers."_

"I don't see why not. What day is it, Thursday? Yeah, should work."

" _Okay. See you tomorrow!"_

"Later."

* * *

Arriving at the Pokémon Center, Eli made a beeline for the register to retrieve Spike's pokeball. He let him out of his ball for a moment to check up on him.

His nidorino looked as good as new. No evidence of the defeat left save perhaps on his warrior spirit. But Spike looked as quietly confident as ever. No way to tell for sure until the next battle or training.

Looking at his little purple dinosaur, he was reminded of how excited he was when they met in the wild. The thrill of the hunt, his pounding hart as the little male nidoran accepted his challenge and they squared of. He petted the head of his pokémon, avoiding the poisonous barbs with familiarity. Spike leaned in, its pitch black eyes closing in comfort. The quadruped was a lot bulkier now, with a power level of 23 he was already eligible for evolution via moonstone. But he wanted to hold out until he felt the time was right. It would be held off as a reward for a good performance. That way it would mean something.

Recalling his companion of nearly a year back to his pokéball, Eli took to the second floor. Spying an unused terminal, he logged in and registered his Stacy's.

The trade worked as followed. You log in with your ID, you register your pokémon by putting them on the platform and digitizing them. That means that the physical gets digital. Once in the system you can start trading with other registered pokémon put up for trade. You basically send a trade proposal to them via the terminal or their pokégear and they can choose to accept or refuse the trade. An easy user friendly system, but with no refunds.

As he scrolled down the list, there were a few that caught his eye.

A level 14 evee, male, average weight, energetic. Known moves: Shadow Ball, Quick Attack and Growl.

Eli's eyes widened. Shadow Ball on a level 14 evee? That meant that TM was most likely used. Lucky him. They might go for a level 17 kadabra. Sending a proposal he waited with baited breath. An evee could prove an incredible boon to his team. He's been looking for an electric type for ages and wasn't willing to settle for a pikachu. If he had wanted a magnemite or a voltorb he would've had to go to the other side of Kanto with time he could use to make money. And Electabuzz were just very rare and elusive in the wild. Don't get him wrong, Red made it to the Master scene with a pikachu. But that just spoke of the amount of talent Red had as a trainer. Pikachu's strong points in battle was its small size in correlation with its high agility which made it a hard target to hit. Its average special attack power could be trained up to a decent level, but were outshone be many electric types. Like a jolteon for example. That was a top tier battle pokémon. Extreme agility, reflexes and high special damage output. That was exactly what he was looking for in an electric type. They weren't that uncommon in the battle scene of Kanto, seeing as there were breeders who specialized in evee. But they were _hella_ expensive. This would therefore be such a sweet deal.

 _Ping!_

Eli whooped in joy. "Score!" He had just won another addition to his team. He materialized the pokéball and clipped it to his belt. It wasn't a stasis ball so he'd meet the evee later.

Now, next up was the machoke. Honestly he was kind of thinking of keeping the fighting type. He could use one in his team. But since he was here, he might as well look for something better suited to him. Scrolling down the list, he searched for something that would strike his fancy.

Graveler? No.

Persian? Hmm… Maybe. Let's bookmark it and move on.

Primeape? … Too much of a hassle to train with that temper it had. Rage was a useful tool in battle, but it could just as easily be used against you. Not to mention possible disobedience issues.

Tyrogue? … Interesting. It had a power level of 16 which meant it would evolve in either a hitmonlee, hitmonchan or a hitmontop. All three were considered excellent battlers and were used frequently by the Fighting Type Master Bruno, formerly of the Elite Four. This tyrogue had the moves: Bullet Punch and Tackle.

Personally, Eli had a preference for hitmonlee. With its springlike legs it could cover ground quickly which he imagined would give it an edge over the other two in terms of positioning on the battlefield. They were also very eager to train and get stronger, something that any trainer could appreciate. He didn't know much else about the pokémon, honestly. Time to change that.

Taking out his pokégear clipped to his belt, he spoke to it. "Queball, find me information concerning Tyrogue training and eating habits." His pokégear shimmered a pink color as if in confirmation. Eli smiled, porygon-2 were handy creatures. Queball could act as his own AI butler/bodyguard.

His pokegear lit up in blue and projected a screen in front of him like a hologram. It was a lot of info to take in. Ranked win-loss rates, average, max and min heigths and weights, most succesful movesets and battle tactics, recommended food etc.

"You've outdone yourself once again Que." Eli complemented seemingly to thin air. An answering happy 10-bit sound, disclaimed that.

Going of these stats, he could justify choosing tyrogue. With a few adjustments to his moveset, physical training and diet, he could become fierce in about 2 months. Well, he couldn't be there 24/7 when tyrogue would be training. But he could train in the yard on his own following some instructions.

Shrugging, he decided to go for it. He didn't have any info on the intelligence level, but the growth-rate of the pokémon was decent – if that was any indication. A few minutes later another ding signified another successful trade, making him smile in satisfaction. Clipping the pokéball onto his belt, he made a beeline for home.

* * *

As he neared his street he got the sense that something was wrong. Police cars were surrounding his house, the obnoxious flickering lights a dead give-away even from a considerable distance.

He braked to a full stop.

Were they here for him? Did they find some new incriminating information? Maybe about his heists? Could he have missed something?

His panicking thoughts were interrupted by the loud arrival of an ambulance rushing past him towards his house. With a sinking feeling he followed sedately.

Later, he wouldn't even be able to tell Mikey who was in his house that evening, how he had managed to push his way through two police officers to get to his fathers room. All he remembered was his dads sunken and unseeing eyes staring at him in his bed – somehow accusing, a flapping scalp of faded black hair, the surprisingly large blood splat on the wall behind him, liberally decorated with pieces of grey matter.

He never told Mikey about the fight he had had with his old man the day before the event – afraid what the only person he still cared about would think of him. What he would think of him, knowing he had indirectly killed his own dad. And a big piece of him didn't _want_ to give himself the opportunity to be rid of that fear, or to lessen the guilt. This was his penance, his burden to bare until death.

And in the privacy of his own mind, he was actually relieved his dad wasn't here to hold him back any more.

* * *

 **A/N: Next chappie in progress.  
**


End file.
